Back in 2008, faithful readers of Preschoolers and Peace followed along in real time as our 8th child, Joe, was whisked away to a nearby children's hospital after I found him in a coma.

Two weeks later "Mighty Joe" emerged with the effects of heart damage, kidney failure, liver failure, and permanent brain damage.

Six months later, I then accidentally ran over our 5-year-old with our 12-passenger van. That horrifying incident led to an investigation by Child Protective Services, but our tiny 5-year-old lived with a simple fractured pelvis. Our foundations were not so simply fractured, however.

A year later we woke one morning to discover our 8-year-old daughter in septic shock. She had a ruptured appendix that nearly took her life and kept us in the hospital for another three weeks and three surgeries. We would soon find ourselves losing our grip on everything we thought we were doing right (including this blog).

Now New Growth Press is publishing our story.

Lost and Found: Losing Religion, Finding Grace is the gripping true story of how God used suffering to save our family from empty religion. As wave after wave of crisis hit, we discovered that getting religion “right” wasn’t a good substitute for a living relationship with a loving God. Through our suffering, we learned about misplaced identities and false hope, and we threw ourselves wholly into the arms of Jesus—where we found the grace we so desperately needed.

Will you help me to spread the word?

I am thankful that God has given me the opportunity to tell our story again and again, in the hope that others will find their own freedom in the gospel, too. You may recognize that this is a story for you — a call to remember your identity in Christ. Or you may know someone who is in serious need of a fresh reminder to find their purpose, worth, value, and significance in Jesus.

Pre-Order, Please

Lost and Found: Losing Religion, Finding Grace will be released in February of 2017, and we can't wait! But one of the best ways to spread the word is to pre-order your own copy because booksellers see those pre-orders as an indication as to whether or not they should carry the book in their store or website. It would help immensely!

Thank You

For reading, for praying, for commenting, for encouraging. Our stories are intertwined, and I am so thankful.

Mighty Joe had a seizure yesterday. A big one. We didn't see it coming at all, and since it lasted over 10 minutes and he lost all control, we called 911. Seizures look worse than they are, but because of Joe's history and the irregularity of this one, we decided to drive him 90 minutes to the children's hospital where he has been cared for each time.

The visit there was rather uneventful; his lab results came back normal, but the decision was made to start him on anti-seizure meds, a choice we knew was going to have to be made at some point. Yesterday was that point.

Until Joe, I had never been a "special needs mother". And I couldn't grasp what comes along with that. For me, the reality includes recurring nightmares of watching Joe get hit by vehicles as we walk down the road, outbursts that are punctuated by smothering love and cuddling, and beautiful triumphant rays of something luminous in his mind in the midst of the struggles to learn to read and the inability, still, to tie his shoes.

I live each day in a state of heightened stress. I used to say that the hardest thing about mothering is that you never feel like you are truly "off ", and that you always have to be aware of what is going on. Having a special needs child amps that up by about 3,000,000,000%. In the past month alone, Joe has found his dad's heart medication in a cabinet once thought unreachable, written with a Sharpie marker on our brand-new van, stolen his brother's Lego candy, and destroyed everyone else's schoolwork. I suppose we could be accused of not watching him well enough, but that's the thing about a child like this: there is no well enough.

Mighty Joe christened our new van.

I steal myself away to the closet or the bathroom several times each week just to cry. It isn't always about what he's done, but it is often about his future and our role in that.

If I did not know God intimately and over so many decades, I'm not sure I could trust him, but I do. I do not think that he will heal Joe's brain in the here and now. I do not think he will close up the holes that were left by enterovirus when he was a baby and fill them with working brain matter. I do not think we have seen the worst of what that damage will manifest in Joe's life; we haven't even hit puberty yet. But as the old hymn says,

"I know Whom I have believed,And am persuaded that He is ableTo keep that which I’ve committedUnto Him against that day.”

That's actually from 2 Timothy 1:12.

That's all I've got. Nothing substantial or life-changing or earth-shattering for you. But I can cling to and trust in him and know that God has this. He didn't sit in heaven and one day wonder how Joe got so sick. He isn't in shock that Joe woke up with a giant seizure yesterday. But he is able.

Do you remember that book I wrote? The one that went through a publisher and an agent and then back again? That book that had me wondering if anyone would be able to read it outside of my family since it lived in my computer?

I'm always amazed by God's hand, His work, His timing, His plan. I knew He wanted me to write that book, and I looked back at that time period and wondered how I even had the time to write it. When did I do that? Because I certainly couldn't see how I was able to carve out the time. There are a lot of people in this house and they like to interrupt a lot. I like to hang out with them, too, so my time's a little consumed.

Anyway, It happened because God wanted it to. He made a way. And even over the last two years when it stayed tucked away in a Pages file, God was doing things His way. His way is always, always, always better. Remember that, because your thing might not be a book but it's something, and God has a perfect plan for that. Perfect, my friend.

More than we could ever ask for or imagine.

I signed a contract last week with New Growth Press and Key Life Ministries, but here's the kicker: if I could have hand-picked a publisher and a ministry to work with, these two would be it. How it all came about is entirely God's doing, and I can see how He was working in that time period when I was wondering why I'd even bothered. This was why. Both the publisher and the folks at Key Life are committed to a gospel-centered, grace-filled message that puts Jesus squarely where He belongs: in the center. All over, really. These are the people I want the book to run around with.

If you're new to Preschoolers and Peace and wondering what the book might be about, I can guide you to the latest HomeschoolingIRL podcast (where my hubs and I hang out), in which we tell our story of over-the-top trials and total faith overhaul. Just click over:

Thank you for reading! I'll update you on the book and you'll be the first to know when it comes out. Promise. Oh, and I do have more posts planned for next week! Really, I do!

We call him Mighty Joe because he fought the Enterovirus and won, but he carries battle scars in the form of 6 holes in his brain. 6 actual holes, which can clearly be seen on an MRI. It's a little shocking. But you can also see the battle scars in the form of words he finds difficult to pronounce, the extreme ADHD from frontal lobe damage that he fights every day, and the delay or lack of higher cognitive learning functions. Those are the words of his neurologist, as of April 2014.

I put my son to bed after having given him an entire bottle of milk (I was fighting a breast infection and monitoring his intake, so I know he drank 6 ounces that night), and he went down just like our other seven babies had before him - sleepy, comfy, content. We had no reason to believe he wasn't healthy. The truth is, there are just some things in life we cannot control. As much as we want to think that we can call the shots and we can make things safe and perfect for our children, accidents do happen. Children do die. There's not always anything we can do to stop it.

But here's what I want to say as one parent to another: We cannot live in fear. I couldn't stand over my babies' cribs and make sure they were breathing in every little breath, but I could pray for them. I could watch them with a careful eye. I could savor every moment that was good and wonderful.

Do we regret that Joe has six holes in his brain as a result of Enterovirus-71? Of course. We often think, "What if?" But there is no what if. In this vast universe where we believe that God has a sovereign hand in things whether they turn out the way we think they should or not, there are no what-ifs. Joe is our beautiful Joe, missing parts of his brain, puzzling us with his ability to do some things but not others, cracking us up, loving us with abandon, singing Let it Go at the top of his lungs, coloring on the walls, knocking over the plants.

It is what it is. He's a beautiful boy. He breathes, he walks, he laughs, and he lights up the universe.

Rest easy tonight, mom and dad. Love and care and nurture and treasure, but do not live in fear, even if a media outlet, doctor, or social worker wants to make you think it's all your fault. There are things you can do to try and prevent illness in your home, and you should do them. But you are not the one who makes the planets spin, and that sweet little one entrusted to your care is ultimately dependent on God for her life. We get to watch and witness the moments, and what a privilege every day we have our children is.

A huge thank you once again to all of my sweet readers who have been with us since the day I found our littlest guy in a coma when he was just 7 weeks old. It means the world to me that you regularly ask how he's doing.

We chose to keep Joe home for kindergarten, just as we have with every other child in our family since 1997. But unlike his seven older siblings, we could see immediately that we were going to have huge hurdles to overcome. Despite using a preschool curriculum created for the struggling learner with neurodevelopmental issues, by October it was painfully obvious that something was dreadfully wrong. We knew this, but until we started "school", we hadn't been quite aware to this level. We began to joke that Joe was a little like "one-sided velcro": nothing sticks.

Typical days are like this:

"Joe, this is the letter A. Remember? A." Point to the A, trace the A, find the A, click the A on the computer program, see the A on the grocery sign, write the A with a crayon.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

47 days later:

"Joe, do you remember what letter this is?" -Blank stare.-"Joe, it's an A. Remember?"

It's a lot like Groundhog Day around here. Every time I park the car, I have to go over our routine of NOT jumping out of the car seat, flinging open the door, and running into the parking lot. Every single time.

The white masses are the largest of 6 holes, bilaterally.

It was time to assemble his little team of specialists who could help us make some decisions. We had him assessed through our local elementary school with a dedicated special ed team. These women are a gift, helping me think through logistics of homeschooling, pointing me in the direction of services and options, and loving Joe in the process. His speech therapist guided us back to the neurologist, who confirmed from the inside what the special ed team had found in their assessments:

Joe scores low average to deficient in every single area except gross motor.

His gross motor is crazy-excellent, which is consistent with frontal lobe damage.

He tests on the extreme end of the ADHD scale. His symptoms are the result of the damaged areas (6 actual holes in his brain showing up in the MRI).

Medicating Joe for focus issues has the potential to raise his IQ several points, as his assessments were severely affected by his inability to focus on one thing at a time.

Medicating Joe for focus issues will be the difference between his ability to one day live independently or not. We're going this route for now. We might change course later. We trust his neurologist, who has tracked him from the day he was on the brink of a code until his appointment last week.

Joe qualifies for full-time special education. Every day is Groundhog Day.

Joe's brain will not heal. It will always have 6 holes, and they will not get worse or better. He has the markers for and the damage in areas that assure the onset of seizures (he's only had one since he was discharged from the PICU), and in that case, his brain will suffer more injury.

Checking out his nifty hospital wristband at the neurologist's office.

Joe is busy, to say the least. That's his "beary" taking a ride on the chair as they investigate the trash can in the neurologist's office.

This may end up being my last public update of Joe's progress, because as he's getting older, he'll likely become increasingly aware of the differences between him and most people, and we want to turn his struggles into glory.

He's sweet as sugar, funny, and cute as can be. He's adored by 7 older siblings and a host of fans. Our goal is to help Joe live the best life he can, because the Enterovirus was not an accident: God has already turned something horrible into something beautiful!

There's a book written about Joe and the other trials we faced shortly after this one. It's made an exciting journey through publishing house, agent, and back again, and we're praying about how to get it into your hands. Pray with us? Thanks.

Our Mighty Joe! Some of you have been reading Preschoolers and Peace since the beginning, and you have watched and weathered so many ups and downs in our family. That's one of the great things about reading your favorite blogs, isn't it? And I can tell you as a blogger, that's one of the best things about writing a blog. Mighty Joe has an international fan club!

Because of where the holes are in his brain, Joe actually has mad gross motor skills. Learned to swim in 15 minutes - jumping off the diving board and swimming across the pool in 15 minutes. Kicking a soccer ball dozens of yards across the lawn and hitting a target. And now, teaching himself to ride a bike. 5 minutes. Done.